


It Will Be Summer

by regshoe



Series: Up in the Grey Hills [2]
Category: Flight of the Heron - D. K. Broster
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24078217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regshoe/pseuds/regshoe
Summary: A year after they parted near Arisaig, Ewen and Keith meet again.
Relationships: Ewen Cameron/Keith Windham
Series: Up in the Grey Hills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737133
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7





	It Will Be Summer

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to 'Up In the Grey Hills'.
> 
> Many thanks to Luzula for beta reading, and to Garonne for helping with the Gaelic!

It was the second evening after Ewen Cameron had arrived back at Ardroy, and the time since that longed-for moment had passed in a whirl of events. The joyous first meetings with Aunt Marget and the household servants, and the welcome rest after the fatigue of his long journey, were succeeded on the second morning by those duties to which the too long-absent laird of a Highland estate must attend, and the remainder of that day was spent walking between the fields and crofts to greet his tenants, and in discussing with his aunt how the state of affairs at Ardroy had gone while he was away. It had gone, he found, remarkably well. He had spoken truly in calling Aunt Margaret the best factor a laird could have; under her management the estate had prospered about as much as it could have done.

'Now that you shall be relieved of some of your responsibilities,' Ewen had said to her, as she put away the account-books, 'you ought to have a holiday.' For he was, in truth, rather humbled at the evidence of how much she had done on his behalf, and he felt that she must have some reward.

She had demurred at first, saying that she was too old to be thinking of such things, and had no liking for travel. But, on Ewen's smilingly pressing the point, she spoke, rather wistfully, of an old friend, now a wealthy widow at Montrose, whom she had not seen for many years; and finally, with a brightness in her eyes which, Ewen suspected, had not appeared there for a long time, she agreed to the plan of a visit to this lady, 'but not,' she said, 'for a little while, for there is still too much to do here.'

And she had demonstrated this by going from her books to arrange an excellent supper for Ewen and herself.

After the meal he had gone out of the house alone. Setting out in no very definite direction, he had wandered for a while amongst the fields; one of his tenants was milking a couple of goats outside her cottage, and he stopped to exchange pleasantries with her before continuing his wandering. And now he was here, walking slowly along the eastern shore of Loch na h-Iolaire, in the cool peace of the evening, and thinking of all those things for which there had not been time in the last two days.

The evening was cloudy, and the light rain that had fallen earlier in the day had bejewelled the blades of grass and the leaves of the cranberry bushes with tiny drops of water. Away over the loch, Meall an Tagraidh reared its head beneath the clouds. It had been a long year since he had seen these sights last. The time had left many shadows upon his heart, of which his recent parting from Lochiel, who was excluded from that clemency which had allowed Ewen to return home, was only the latest. But the heather was again in bloom upon the hills around; a little breeze blew along the loch; the waters lapped at their shores with a gentle and constant sound. Amongst such things the weight of his troubles was lifted from him. There had been times, in the darkest days of his exile, when he had thought that he must surely never see this place again, for the old life which had been his there was so completely undone; but it was not so. These waters, these hills, that little rowan sapling which had rooted itself in a crevice in a patch of bare rock and pushed its bright leaves upwards—such things were not lost, after all. For all the sorrow that had passed over it, Loch na h-Iolaire was what it had always been, and he belonged to it still.

And yet it seemed to him that the harmony of the scene was incomplete; for not all of his heart was here.

Thoughts of Keith Windham had been in his mind all through the long, weary days of exile, and were only the more present now that those days were over. The colour of these thoughts constantly changed. The memory of their last meeting, of how briefly he had held Keith in his arms, was sharp in his heart; and the thought of the wound Keith had received from Lachlan MacMartin's dirk, and from which, in Ewen's opinion, he had yet been in some danger when they parted, was an ever-present worry. He had not truly forgiven himself for allowing it to happen; though there was little he could have done to prevent it, Lachlan was his follower and his responsibility, and it was for Ewen's sake that he had thought himself bound to attack Keith in the first place. 

Yet, little though he might have expected it, there was also in his heart much of the simple joy of newly-realised love, which even in such circumstances was not lessened by the length of their separation. 

His path around the loch had brought him to the foot of the _creag ruadh_ , where the heather and bracken grew in profusion in crannies, along ledges, wherever they could get a foothold amongst the rough granite. Ewen sat carefully down in the middle of a clump of heather and looked out towards the water, half-consciously twisting at the ring which he wore on his finger as he did so. It was a long time before he returned.

*

A few days later, while Ewen and Aunt Margaret sat at their breakfast and discussed the day's business, a letter arrived, addressed to Ewen in handwriting which, though he had seen it only twice before, he instantly knew. He excused himself from the table to read it, not trusting his expression.

Keith had heard the news of the Act of Indemnity; _I am glad that you may now safely return to your Home_ , he wrote, _and I hope you have lost no Time in doing so_. He himself had obtained leave of absence from his regiment for some weeks of the summer, _and, if you are indeed returned to Ardroy, I intend to hold you to that Promise which you made at our last Meeting_.

Ewen read the letter twice through, succumbed to sentimentality so far as to kiss the paper upon which it was written, and then went to his study to write a reply.

*

He arranged the visit for the week before his aunt was to leave Ardroy; for that way they might have the house to themselves for a while, and a little more freedom to speak and act as they would. Of course Aunt Marget would have to learn the truth eventually, but Ewen thought it best to give her time to become accustomed to the idea of Keith as his friend before confronting her with anything else.

And he had entrusted Lachlan with the task of escorting her on the journey, which neatly solved another problem that had been worrying him. Until then, Lachlan was under orders to keep away from the house of Ardroy. Ewen intended to ask Keith, later, if he wished to see Lachlan and receive an apology, and if he did then they would go up to Slochd nan Eun together; otherwise, he would see to it that they did not meet.

At last the day arrived. Ewen, who had spent the last few days carefully not allowing his feelings to interfere with the carrying out of the work he had to do around the estate, had finished his tasks for the day and was sitting on a bench outside the house, making some pretence at reading a book, from the pages of which he kept glancing up along the track that led up from Achnacarry along Gleann Cia-aig. He had described the route carefully in his letter, feeling that Keith would prefer the northward journey along that glen—narrow and steep-sided, but with a good level track along its length—to the high path over the pass to the southeast which they had taken together on his first visit to Ardroy, two years ago.

So he watched and waited, and at each glance upwards there was no one in sight; and then there was someone.

Ewen went to meet him as he dismounted from his horse. They clasped hands, in silence at first, not because there was nothing to say but because there was far too much.

In any case, they did not have long for this first reunion, for there was much to do. Keith's grey mare had to be stabled, and his bag to be brought inside; and Aunt Marget, hearing the commotion, emerged from the house and greeted him, her manner a little guarded but perfectly courteous. Following her, Ewen accompanied Keith indoors.

'Here; sit down. You must be fatigued after your journey,' said Ewen, steering him to a seat in the living room.

'Thank you.' A few more such commonplace words passed between them, but all the while Keith was looking up at him with that half-laughing expression in his hazel eyes which Ewen remembered so well.

Over supper Keith entertained them both with stories about his life with the Royals since he had left Scotland last year. He had once again been fighting in Flanders, and, though his account of his own conduct was suitably modest, it was clear to Ewen that he had been distinguishing himself with the same gallant bravery which Ewen had admired so much on first knowing him. Then he asked them various questions about the day-to-day affairs of Ardroy, and discussed with Aunt Marget the prospects for the harvest and how the cattle were faring up on the hills as though nothing fascinated him so much. Throughout, they avoided any contentious political subjects; and Ewen and Keith said nothing of their last meeting.

After the meal, Ewen took Keith up to the guest bedroom where he was to stay. He closed the door behind them, and at last they were alone.

Inevitably, Ewen had built up this moment a great deal in his thoughts; and now that it had arrived, he found his various feelings obscured from view by a sudden, sharp anxiety. He could say nothing, and thought distractedly of how slender had been the threads that bound them together when they parted.

For a few moments Keith watched him in silence, apparently held in the grip of a like uncertainty; but then he glanced down at Ewen's hand upon the doorknob, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, and said quietly, 'You are still wearing my ring.'

Relief flooded through Ewen. 'I could scarcely forget it,' he said.

Slender threads, perhaps, but strong. A moment more and they were in each other's arms.

'Oh, Keith, you cannot know how much I have missed you,' said Ewen, resting his cheek against Keith's head. From here he could see towards the window, which looked out over the birch trees that grew down to the loch. The green leaves and the blue water were calm and steady under the gentle clouds of evening—though the view would keep blurring a little.

Keith pulled back just far enough to look at him. 'I believe I have some notion,' he said. 

With a little sound that was half a laugh and half a sob, Ewen leaned in to kiss him.

They did not speak again for some time after that; Ewen could not have done. He thought vaguely of how different this was from the last time they had embraced; he could hold Keith as tightly as he wanted to now...

Presently they sat down together upon the hearthrug, Ewen leaning his head against the big armchair that stood before the fire. 'Tell me,' said Keith, settling his own head on Ewen's shoulder, 'about your time in France. Where did you go?'

And so Ewen told him of that time: how he had stayed at first in the little northern port town where the ship that had carried him off Morar was bound, and how later on he had followed Lochiel and the Prince.

'By the by,' said Keith, 'I gather that Lochiel was not included in the Act of Indemnity. I was sorry to hear it.'

'Yes,' said Ewen simply.

He did not speak of the plans which Lochiel still had regarding the Prince, and in which he had taken some part while he was in France; but there was plenty to tell of other things, and his own memories at this moment were, more than anything else, of the long, hollow days when he had thought of nothing but Keith, of where he might be and of what had happened to him.

'I got on well enough,' said Keith, in answer to the question with which his narrative had ended, 'as you can see. I—the wound I received at Arisaig got somewhat worse after you left (no thanks to your care of it, I'm sure!). I was in a fever for a day or so—Ewen, you needn't look like that, I am quite well now... In any case, I believe my incapacity was to blame for my failing to intercept your Prince in his flight.' Keith smiled wryly; he apparently did not regret this failure as much as he might have done.

They talked in this way for a while, the conversation at times giving way to silences filled by that comfortable understanding which does not require words. Ewen stroked Keith's short hair with one hand, and Keith clasped his other hand tightly, their fingers intertwined. Outside the window the grey evening deepened by imperceptible degrees into the soft half-darkness of a Highland summer's night.

'Keith, my heart, you are tired,' said Ewen at last. Keith's head had begun to droop a little where it rested upon Ewen's shoulder, though at this term of address he raised it up again. 'I ought to go... I shall see you again tomorrow.' He smiled as he spoke these words, in whose truth was such fortune that he could scarcely believe them.

'Very well,' said Keith. With a sigh, he got to his feet and helped Ewen up after him. 'Goodnight, Ewen.'

He tilted his head up towards him, and they kissed once more, slow and peaceful, Keith's hand light upon Ewen's neck and his lips soft against his own. At last Ewen let him go, left the guest bedroom and went to his own room, feeling that he walked upon air.

*

The next day was as uneventful as it was happy. The time passed in a sort of blissful idleness, between sitting and talking together in the long living-room, walking amongst the birches and standing on the near shore of Loch na h-Iolaire, Ewen pointing out the landmarks of its surroundings and explaining their names and histories to Keith.

He indicated the _creag ruadh_ , standing out over the far end of the loch; this morning the sunlight illuminated the rock and the water below it in colours equally brilliant. 'The place is named after it,' he said, 'for _àird ruadh_ is "red height".'

Keith reached a hand up to stroke Ewen's hair, the colour of which derived just as much advantage from the brightness of the morning. 'How very appropriate,' he said.

In the evening Ewen again accompanied Keith up to his room, and they had another long talk, on lighter matters than that of the previous day. Eventually Ewen, glancing up at the window, said, 'Oh, 'tis late. The time goes so quickly... I shall leave you to your bed, Keith.'

Keith regarded him with a steady look. 'I could wish you did not have to leave,' he said.

And Ewen could not but agree with this; but at that moment a sound of footsteps came from the other side of the door—Marsali or Aunt Margaret going up to the attics on some errand. Here it was not possible to do more than they had, and he must leave, for now at least.

Ewen rose very early the next morning, which was perhaps the finest one since his return. He took his accustomed short walk around the garden and down towards the loch, where he contemplated going for a swim; but then he glanced back up at the house, and as he did so Keith's window opened and his head appeared there, and so Ewen decided instead to return.

A quiet 'Come in' sounded from behind the bedroom door in answer to his knock, and when he entered Keith was still standing at the open window, in his shirtsleeves, looking out into the pale red-gold shades of the morning.

The smile with which he greeted Ewen was irresistible, and Ewen went over to the window and took him into his arms.

'Did you come in here merely to do this,' asked Keith after a few moments, without relaxing his own hold on Ewen in the slightest, 'or had you intended to say anything in particular?'

Ewen laughed quietly against his hair, and pulled back from the embrace, looking once again out of the window. The sun was just rising over the water, and the cool air drifted into the room with the fresh scents of pine trees and grass upon it. 'I had intended,' he said, 'to suggest an excursion to the far end of the loch, this morning. It is'—he gestured at the view—'going to be such a day as should not be wasted, and that part of the estate is especially lovely. I should like to show you.'

Keith nodded. 'That sounds an excellent plan.'

'And also,' Ewen added after a moment, 'because I wish to be alone with you for a while, and I believe we may be so better out there than in here.'

And so, after packing up a breakfast of bread and cheese and bidding farewell to Aunt Marget, who was out behind the house giving her chickens their own breakfast, they set off, walking arm-in-arm along the path that led away from the house and along the lochside.

At first their way passed through the fields and between the little stone cottages, thatched with reeds or heather, that clustered round the southern end of Loch na h-Iolaire. A gentle scene now, soon enough it would be busy with industrious activity when the oats and barley were harvested. There were not many people about, due less to the early hour than to the fact that most of the men were still away watching the cattle and sheep upon their summer grazing grounds, but Ewen wished a good morning to those of his tenants who were abroad in the fields.

Besides this, neither of them spoke often. Such surroundings hardly needed any comment; it was enough simply to be in the midst of them, and indeed Keith was observing the details of the scene with some interest.

After half a mile or so they left the path that wound between the fields, and the cultivated surroundings were succeeded by an emptier and a wilder landscape. Here the heather, cranberry and willow grew, with a soft floor of mosses beneath them, down to the water's edge, the dappled shades of green, purple, red and brown in endless variations giving way to clear and spotless blue. Above them the promise of the dawn was quite fulfilled, for it was becoming a beautiful day, clear and bright, and with enough of a breeze to keep the midges away.

They sat down to eat their bread and cheese upon a patch of grass and moss surrounded by a group of pine trees, which framed a fine view across the water between their rough reddish trunks. In the shallows beside the bank a grebe was swimming, and the water drops glittered on the tufts of golden feathers around its head as it emerged from a dive.

'Here,' said Ewen, reaching out a hand to brush through the leaves of a low bush growing beneath the pines, upon which were a great number of smooth blue-black berries. ' _Dearcan-coille_ —blaeberries. We may add them to our breakfast.' And, so saying, he picked a few berries, ate two himself and offered the rest to Keith.

All along the way Ewen had been stopping now and then to point out various plants in this way, for he knew each of them by name and could impart quite a store of knowledge about each one. Such knowledge was the natural result of familiarity, for these plants and trees and flowers which now surrounded them had been from his earliest days the background to all the scenes of his life; but he treasured them all the more now, and took more care to remember the details which he now explained, because he had been apart from them for such a long time—and would not forget how nearly he had lost them for ever.

'A fine breakfast it makes.' Keith reached across Ewen to pick another handful of berries. 'A most useful plant; I did not expect to find so many here.' He looked up at Ewen with a playful smile in his eyes.

'It is useful, I'm sure; and it is beautiful also.'

'Perhaps it is.' Keith was still smiling, but there was nothing of his habitual irony in the manner with which he continued, 'Ewen. I am more glad than I can say to see you here again. All these last few days, but now more than ever... You are—so very much at home.'

Ewen did not smile. 'It is you who have brought me back here,' he said.

Having taken as much of a harvest of blaeberries as they wanted, they set off again. The land grew wilder yet, climbing up towards the great height of the _creag ruadh_ , and the ground underfoot became rougher, for they were no longer following a track. In front of them the clear, cool water of a little burn tumbled over smooth stones down towards the loch; Keith took Ewen's hand to help him across it, and they did not let go once they reached the other side. A skylark was singing somewhere above, the ever-changing notes falling from its flight in an unbroken stream as though to outdo the song of the burn that ran beneath it.

At last they came down to the shore again at the foot of the great rock, on its far side. Here Ewen paused and, settling one arm round Keith, again pointed with the other hand out towards some feature of the landscape on the far side of the loch. Keith's gaze followed his hand for a moment, but then returned to his face, a smile spreading slowly across his own features; Ewen felt it, and turned back towards Keith as he reached one hand up to cup Ewen's cheek, murmuring his name.

They moved forward together, and their lips met. Ewen pulled Keith closer to him, for there was now no reason to remain in any sense parted. Keith responded to this with a little contented noise, and tightened his own hold on Ewen. Melting deeper into the kiss, Ewen felt that at last all the emptiness of that long year was ended... and he had had more than one reason for bringing Keith out here this morning.

In a short time their kissing had grown more urgent. Keith was with some impatience trying to pull Ewen's hair out of its plait, the better to run his hands through it, and Ewen had got his own hands under Keith's coat, where he was searching for a way round his shirt also. These and other things made it clear enough to them both in what direction their movements were tending; and, breaking the kiss for a moment, though keeping his arms fastened round Ewen's neck, Keith moved back a little and said, 'You would—here?' He sounded slightly out of breath, and he was again smiling with one side of his mouth in that way that Ewen loved so well.

'Of course,' replied Ewen, smiling, 'as long as you do not object.'

'Oh, you may rest assured I do not,' said Keith, and moved in for another kiss. Ewen held him tightly, and desire and joy grew in him in equal measure. The fortunes of war and the bleak necessity of exile had parted them upon the very threshold of their love; and it seemed to him that here was the best place that could be to resume what had been so long and so cruelly interrupted.

Ewen broke the kiss again and, pulling Keith by the hand, led him to a place further up the _creag ruadh_ , where a slight concavity in the rock and a gnarled birch tree hanging over it combined to make a little hollow, surrounded by a vigorous growth of bracken and quite hidden from outside view. Here he laid Keith down upon the grass amongst the heather, and began working at the fastenings of his shirt in earnest. Keith pulled at Ewen's own clothes and soon had them off him. They moved together, ever closer, and Ewen had little space for any further very complex reflections.

Afterwards he returned slowly to more or less coherent thought. He was lying with his head upon Keith's shoulder, Keith's hand stroking steadily through his hair and down his back, the cool morning air upon his bare skin and the laverock, somewhere high above them, still singing its gay and constant song... He was very happy. Moving slowly, he tilted his head up and kissed Keith's mouth, sweet and gentle.

Presently Keith sat up a little, and Ewen turned round in his arms so that he could look down from their ledge upon the side of the _creag ruadh_. There was a fine view from here over the northern end of the loch and away towards the hills above it, the heather upon the high slopes deep purple beneath the blue sky.

Keith was thinking of the same things, for he gestured out at the view and said, in a low and lazy voice, 'It is rather lovely, I suppose.'

Ewen turned his head. 'Ah,' he said. 'I knew you should come to admire the Highlands in the end, my love.'

'Your methods of persuasion are certainly convincing.' Ewen laughed aloud at that. 'But, regardless, I find I do like this place very much.'

They kissed again.

'Although,' continued Keith, a while later, 'I cannot help thinking there must be more comfortable places to do this.'

Ewen grinned. 'I could not manage that today, heart's darling,' he said. Keith looked amused at this endearment, though the amusement was not untempered by something more sincere. 'But,' continued Ewen, 'I think I told you that my aunt is going away on a visit later this week, and most of the household go with her; and so we shall have the house more to ourselves. I shall take you to my own bed then.'

'I shall look forward to it.' Keith leaned down to kiss him once more, and Ewen leaned closer against him. To have this, he thought, was surely the sweetest joy that he could ask of life.

Ewen ran his hand down Keith's side in a gentle caress—and then stopped, for beneath his hand was the scar, faint now but still apparent, of the wound which Keith had taken last year.

But Keith did not fail to notice his hesitation—or, apparently, to divine the thoughts which lay behind it. Reaching over Ewen, he took hold of his other hand—the hand which still had two white lines running across the palm and fingers. Keith ran his own fingers lightly along these, and placed the hand over his own scar. 'The way here,' he said in a low voice, 'has not been easy, I will allow. But I hope such things are well behind us now. We are no longer fighting as enemies, after all.' And there was a little smile in his voice as he said this.

'No,' said Ewen. 'No—you are right. That is over.' He held Keith close to him.

'And, in any case,' continued Keith, ''tis entirely thanks to you that this was no worse, if you remember.' His tone was already less serious than it had been.

'I still believe I have more to thank you for.'

'Oh, don't let's argue about such things, Ewen. I vow I could not bear it.'

And to this Ewen laughingly agreed. 

There followed another contented silence; but presently Ewen thought of something else, and said, 'Keith, I remember what I was about to show you, before. Upon that little island down there, in the tallest of those trees—you can just see it—there is a heron's nest. The birds always used to live there, but I thought they were gone some time ago. But since I have been back here, I have found that they have returned also.'

**Author's Note:**

> The Slavonian Grebe ( _Podiceps auritus_ ), which has a striking hairstyle, is very rare in Britain, but happily there is a small population in just this area.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Up in the Grey Hills](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25409539) by [Luzula (Luzula_podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luzula_podfic/pseuds/Luzula)




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